With a palpable commitment to its subject matter, the UK premiere of Let Her Liv* introduced London to a play that knows what it wants to say.
Let Her Liv* had its UK premiere with a 2-night run on 14th and 15th September at the Hen and Chickens Theatre. After their first show, director Jared Scott said that this play originated eleven years ago, devised by a queer-focused youth theatre program called SPECTRUM. Conceived over a decade ago and staged previously in the US, Scott has revived the piece for a UK audience.
Speaking to the enduring conflict of the play, that of transgender identity and one’s right to self-definition, Scott states: “In times like these, stories that bring us even a twinge of hope are essential”. Most of the play’s text has remained unchanged since conception, highlighting its enduring relevancy and ability to speak to the lived experience of trans people. Interestingly, the “times like these” alluded to by Scott have been quite unaltered in the 11 years between the play’s creation and its current London staging in 2026.
With this in mind, the play’s content feels like a product of passion and long-term personal connection. It’s a piece with history behind it, unafraid to tackle the challenging, intimate subjects of religion, familial connection, grief and memory in its short 1-hour runtime. This intimacy is evident in the piece’s writing and direction, also encouraging strong performances within the ensemble cast. Characters that certainly call for emotional nuance and intensity were handled well by the cast of eight.
Let Her Liv* opens with an announcement of the death of our eponymous character, Olivia to some, Oliver to others, in voice-over. We then transition to a funeral parlour, a simple set: a line of chairs facing a single table, on which sits an empty picture frame. This reflects the blank picture of the deceased ‘Liv’ in the audience’s mind, which is slowly filled in through various monologues. As these varied descriptions build, the stage too fills with the people who were touched by Liv’s existence.
The play is structured into the characters’ private recollections. Sometimes having two characters monologuing alongside each other, putting opposing reactions to Olivia’s trans identity into conversation. Moments of overlapping dialogue serve to point out instances of common ground or further highlight opposition. This sometimes made the distinctions between characters’ inner dialogue and direct speech unclear. Meaning rare moments of character interaction and connection were often lost.
This play was at its strongest when it allowed its characters to interact directly. I would like to have seen more of this. One scene sees two romantic partners from Liv’s life, Sofia (Erin Hughes), and Morgan (Song Marshall), paralleled by their religion but at odds in their reaction to Liv’s trans identity. These characters’ reflections go uninterrupted during their respective monologues, so it was interesting to see this structure broken up with an, albeit brief, moment of direct conflict between characters.
The characters are diverse in their perspectives, both making for an interesting watch and highlighting the nuance within Liv’s own identity. Liv’s cousin Lizzie-Beth (Agnes Vesterback) is struggling to reconcile the cool ‘dude’ they grew up knowing with the woman she became. Paralleled with Charli (Emma Levy), who unquestionably accepts her friend’s gender identity, these two perspectives play out without interruption, opening space for the audience to realise common ground between the two.
Certain characters introduce themselves through aspects of their identities, adding needed diversity to the play’s established style. For example, Victoria (Catrin Lewis) talks about her love of linguistics, whilst Alex (Jared Scott) discusses their exploration with makeup and an identity-affirming lifestyle. Meanwhile, other characters work to further the play’s themes. Wes (Marcus Collick) raises a discussion about masculinity and how he feels confronted by his friend’s trans identity. Hanna (Noelle C. Sacher) provides a moving emotional denouement as Liv’s younger sister, exploring themes of sibling relationships, found families, grief and miscommunication.
Interrogating all eight of these diverse characters in the play’s one-hour runtime is certainly a tricky task. Some characters felt slightly underdeveloped. However, overall, this is a play that knows what it wants to say and keeps its core concept tightly woven throughout. With a bit of development, these themes and characters will drive forward an already thought-provoking piece of theatre. With its compassion and clear intention, this revival of Let Her Liv* deserves to be seen by a London audience.